The NotSoSudden Dating Stage
by Ellie 5192
Summary: Prequel to The NotSoAwkward Morning After. The transition from colleagues to couple is rather difficult. Isn't it? And what, exactly, constitutes a 'date? SJ Each chapter reads as a single 'date' and each reads complete. Chap3 EDIT.
1. The NonDate

_Someone *cough flower pot girl cough* mentioned the first couple of dinner dates, so I thought I'd write a little ditty to do with those. _

_A prequel to The NotSoAwkward Morning After, and as such will be a couple of chapters. We are, after all, covering a couple of dates here. _

_Enjoy._

_The NotSoSudden Dating Stage_

Their first date is hardly formal enough or even planned enough to be called a date. In fact, it's born of a mishap. A misunderstanding, if you will. The night is supposed to involve all of the original SG1, and they're to meet at O'Malley's for old time's sake. But two days before it Teal'c informs them he needs to go do something with someone on a planet other than Earth, and even Jack's status as General can't change the fact that the Jaffa they're meeting with are demanding Teal'c's presence. So the plan continues, sans the token alien.

Then, as only Daniel can, he calls them at the last minute and says he's needed at the Smithsonian of all places to collaborate on some Egyptian artefacts, because he's regaining some recognition in the academic field again, and this chance will only come around once.

So Sam and Jack are left sitting in the car park of O'Malley's staring blankly at the entrance, both of them in his truck, and both of them feeling like it's betraying the whole purpose of the night to keep their reservation.

"So... you wanna..."

She nods quickly. "Yeah"

Jack guns the engine and pulls out of the car park, heading for the main road.

"Where to?"

"Your choice, Sir" she replies with a smile, and he's still amazed that after almost a year of him not being on SG1, she still makes his moniker sound more like a pet name than a title.

"You wanna try that new Italian place near yours?"

"There's a new Italian place near mine?"

"You know, one of these days..."

"Yes Sir, I know, I know, I'll get a life"

It's been five days since her father died, three days since she broke up with her Captain America fiancé who is _someone's_ Mr. Right, just not hers, and two days since she laid her father to rest for good, knowing there are no miracle cures this time.

Jack knows she's had her fill of 'life' this week.

"I was gonna say, one of these days you'll eat something other than that God-aweful Chinese shit you call your _favourite_"

She grins and holds back a giggle at his tone, knowing full well he only hates that particular Chinese takeout because the black bean sauce doesn't agree with him.

"Italian it is" she says, and even though he's looking at the road, he knows she's still smiling.

The dinner is relaxed and breezy, and even though the restaurant has a little more to prove than O'Malley's, they manage to stay unnoticed amid the romantic-dinners-for-two and obligatory birthday dinners for Aunty Pam. There's nothing stereotypically Italian about this place- no overbearing red and white checks on tablecloths or piano-according-playing moustache- men. Except for the items on the menu, painstakingly typed in the traditional spelling, and the faint tones of Pavarotti overhead, the restaurant looks like any other of its type, somewhere between family-dining and expensive-night-out.

They're seated in the back, on a stand-alone table that's jutted up against one of the wide support beams, and even the little candle in the middle of their table can't make this night uncomfortable.

They talk about the trials of being General and about Joe the Barber, about how those promising new recruits of yesteryear have settled in, about how they're feeling about various rumours of who will and will not be retiring soon. They spend a good hour and a half discussing Cassie and the emotional blackhole she's quietly spiralling into as she juggles the responsibilities of adulthood with no adult by her side to guide her. As her pseudo parents they don't question that decisions need to be made with her in mind too, and Jack can't help but find it amusing that, to any eavesdroppers, they surely sound like a divorced couple amicably discussing their daughter's future.

They do not talk about Jacob, Pete, Kerry, or the fact that it looks like SG1 as they know it may be no more by the end of the year.

They do not talk about the possibilities that such a change could bring to them.

They do not talk about 'them'.

By the time they pull up behind Sam's Volvo, its well past midnight and the conversation, if allowed, could go all night. Jack kills the engine, and when Sam undoes her belt he does the same. She looks at him, but he's prepared.

"I'll walk you to the door" he says casually, flicking his hand in the general direction as he undoes his belt with the other. If it weren't for the fact that he'd driven her home at the same hour just two nights ago, and held her as she finally allowed the grief to hit while stepping inside, she might just believe that the gesture was only about a desire to make the evening linger a little longer.

But she knows it's more than that, and she's sure that he has no idea just how comforting it feels to know he'll always have her back, even as she walks from the footpath to her front door.

He says a friendly goodbye once she's turned off her alarm, flicked the porch light on and is leaning on the doorframe waiting for that awkward moment of silence. He doesn't linger, and he's not yet to his car when he hears the door shut with a click as the deadbolt flicks over.

He's pretty sure he can feel her eyes on his back, but when he looks back her lace curtains are all still in their frames and no blonde heads seem to be peaking out, though there are no lights on in the front rooms, so who could tell.

He drives away, and once his taillights are past the hedges of the house two doors up, Sam turns back to her darkened monitor and decides not to turn on the computer after all, choosing instead to call it a night.


	2. The First DateDate

_This one is a lot longer than I intended it to be, but I hope you still enjoy. I've cut the original plan of three dates back to two, in light of the fact there is still the night before the Morning After to be written, which will kind of be date number three anyway. _

_As always, enjoy!_

_The Second Date_

_-0-0-0-_

After the first non-date nothing happens. Two weeks, and SG1 continues as it always did, including the team nights. Daniel tells them all about his little trip to DC, and Teal'c lets them know how the relations with the pockets of rebel Jaffa are going, and somewhere along the way the fantastic dinner they shared gets put on the backburner as they all try to accept the fact that the threat of the goa'uld is finally, wonderfully, amazingly gone.

Then the ZPM box and all its goodies are delivered unexpectedly on Saturday, including a tape of another them- or _them_ in the future now the past but their possible future. The details confuse him a little when he doesn't have diagrams, but the point is there's a tape, and on that tape he clearly hears her say 'Jack' from somewhere out of the frame.

It's the first time it occurs to him that, with change on the horizon and an unbeatable enemy all but defeated, the 'someday' they'd been living by and aiming for is quickly becoming the present. That, if anything is to happen between them- and he won't lie; he wishes it will- the time has come.

He's not so naive as to think it's going to be all roses if they allow this 'thing' between them to develop. If he really is looking at taking Hammonds job in Washington, and if Sam really does go to Nevada to help Cassie, they'll be living in one hell of a long distance relationship right from the beginning.

And he's more than aware that it's been barely a month since she let her fiancé go, along with everything else that's happened lately, even if she has already said yes to the fishing invitation for next weekend.

He's open to the idea, but he needs to test the waters. This is not a situation that warrants his usual 'shoot first' attitude.

So he asks her to dinner again when he meets her in the corridor on Monday afternoon, and ignores the way she looks at him with a slightly pleased, slightly puzzled expression, both of them knowing full well that Daniel and Teal'c can't make it on the night in question because they're going to see that new action flick. He's pleased when she accepts his invitation without mentioning them, as though it's normal for just two SG1 members to go to dinner by themselves. Or, more importantly, that it's normal for this _particular _pair to go by themselves.

"Where you wanna go?"

She shrugs, and he realises he should have had a place in mind before asking, but it's been so long since he did this 'asking her on a date' business and he was more concerned about her answer than the food.

"You have anywhere in mind?" she asks, and he realises that not only is she giving him the power of choice, but she's giving him a second chance with the whole 'asking you out for dinner and failing miserably' thing, and it's another reason why he's not going to let them go to opposite ends of the country without at least giving it a go.

He takes a moment to think it through, trying to remember her favourite types of food and, more importantly, where her ex had taken her on their dates. He grins, settling on a place that's just right.

"How about that steak place on my side of town. The one with those skewer things you love?"

She grins at the memories associated with the steakhouse that saw them through each promotion she took and each bad guy they defeated. It's a little bit fancy, has a great chef and, for a night that may or may not be a date, it's perfect.

"Sounds good"

And she grins, just for good measure.

"Sweet. I'll pick you up at yours?"

"Mmhm"

"At, say, seven thirty?"

"Sounds great"

"Great. I'll see you Wednesday"

"I'm sure I'll see you before then" she says with a smirk, her eyes tracking the corridor of the SGC a little.

"You know what I mean" he says, rolling his eyes.

He doesn't tell her what she should or shouldn't wear or that he'll be in something nice but not-too-dressy. He's old enough to know that a woman's outfit can tell you a lot about just what she's expecting from an evening, and if she answers the door in faded jeans, a tee and a nice jacket, he'll get the message loud and clear.

Of course, the fact that he doesn't set a dress code means he's practically knocked on his ass when she answers her door two days later wearing a dress, heals and, God help him, a shiny clip in her hair.

He's suddenly glad that he went for his dark blue jeans and a nice shirt.

He takes a moment to study her from head to toe, and takes pleasure in seeing the blush that she tries to hide. She focuses somewhere just to the left of his chest, her hands folding under the jacket slung over her arms, and he finds it adorable that after all these years she's still looking for ways to meet his approval.

It's not that the outfit is particularly sexual or suggestive. In fact, it's the exact opposite. The summer dress sits just on her knees, the halter top showing just enough cleavage to remind him- rather unnecessarily- that she's all woman under the uniform, and the small heals give her that feminine edge without being too over-the-top. The blues and greens of the dress bring out her eyes, the clip in her hair somehow makes it look a little longer, and the white jacket she's carrying completes the ensemble. She's a strange mix of demure sexuality and sexy innocence, and he'll take her on a billion of these dinner-nights if it means he gets to see more of this side of her.

"Nice" he drawls, and she grins, looking up at him from under her fringe.

"Is this okay?" she asks, clearly a little uncomfortable in a dress and shoes that aren't built for running and trekking.

"Are you kidding?"

She grins again at that, and he knows it's because she can tell he's deadly serious. He gestures to the car, and as she steps through the gate his hand rests lightly at the small of her back for just a moment.

She may not be used to this get-up, but in a short while she's wearing it like a second skin, enjoying the chance to be 'the girl' for once.

The dinner is more awkward than last time, and it might be because it's become blatantly obvious somewhere between her house and the restaurant that this may very well constitute as their first date.

Neither of them brings it up, of course. Regardless of their transfers or the fact that this relationship isn't illegal until it starts effecting their jobs (and it's been doing _that_ for years anyway), they still have to deal with the elephant in the room. The one that says after eight years of unaddressed feelings and dancing between being friends and colleagues, this shift is not supposed to be easy. That it's not so simple to flip a switch and suddenly knock down the walls you've been erecting for so long.

But after an hour of small talk they finally move the conversation onto something that _is _relevant, and he watches her expressions become so beautifully animated as she explains the amazing concept that there are effectively three versions of themselves existing in one reality, unaffected by entropy. He plays dumb where appropriate, though he finds he understands almost all of what she's saying, and he's content to just sit back and watch her use the salt and pepper shakers to explain multi-verse theory.

The main course is so big they both take an hour after to enjoy a drink and talk some more. They talk about her possible transfer to Area-51, and he assures her that if it's what Cassie needs, he'll grant the request tomorrow. They talk about Hammond's retirement, about the fact it's almost a definite, and about the idea that, if the rumours are to be believed, he's being lined up as replacement. She asks him straight out, as they're finishing up the last of a chocolate pudding thing they shared, if he'll take it.

"I dunno" he sighs. She nods, biting the inside of her cheek in thought, twirling her small spoon on the plate. "What do you think?"

"Me?" she asks, startled by the question. She knows as much about politics as him, and likes it about the same.

"You think I should take it?" he asks, and she really looks at him and what he's asking, the spoon going still for a moment.

"Do you want to take it?" she asks quietly, her eyes holding just the right dose of eagerness and caution. They're treading dangerous waters with the meaningful looks that are passing between them, and Jack knows that if there's ever a moment for two people- a definable point in time where they go left or right- they've reached it.

"Do you want me to take it?" he asks, his voice getting softer and more layered.

Okay, so he admits it's not entirely fair to throw this back on her, especially since he knows this dance well enough to know that _he _has to make the first move. That she'll only follow his lead, even on this, even when she's as much in control as he.

"This isn't about me" she replies, and the conversation has gotten so hushed that her voice almost croaks.

Though they haven't broken eye contact in about two minutes flat, he juts his chin out a little more, making the stare a little more pronounced. She breathes in quickly and silently at the gesture, and if he didn't know her so well he never would have picked up on the nervous spinning of the spoon on the plate. She lowers her chin a little and moves her head back just as fraction, and the expression makes her suddenly look unbelievably vulnerable.

"It could be"

And like that, it's out there.

The spoon clatters as it half falls onto the plate, and though a shudder seems to run through her, she doesn't run, and more importantly, she doesn't look away. The vulnerability is replaced with raw nervousness, and he realises that this must look like a silly scene from a movie. But this is their lives, and there is no remake if the ending isn't what the audience wants.

"What are you saying?" she whispers, and he understands that he's very quickly turning the '_maybe, perhaps_' and very safe '_one day_' into a very scary '_this is it, yes or no_'.

"I'm saying... that the decisions I make... can involve you" he replies deliberately. "If you want them to"

She still doesn't look away, which surprises him, and though her eyes seem to water and she sucks in a breath, she only presses the back of two fingers to her lips, her elbow on the table. Thanks in part to a monumental effort from her, the tears don't fall.

He sees her swallow as she continues to stare at him, and he can't help but sit back in his chair, uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

"I don't know what to say to that" she admits, whispering around her fingers.

He's rendered her speechless, and he's too wound up waiting for an answer to gloat, and that annoys him more than it should. He continues to look at her, refusing to let the moment end and, more importantly, let the suggestion be cast to the wind like so much of their relationship. He wants a straight answer, and if it means he has to sit here deciphering her expressions to get it, so be it.

"What are you saying?" she finally asks, screwing her courage to the sticking place and giving him another chance to put the question out there.

He's been watching her close enough to pick up on the flicker of joy somewhere in there, mixed in with fear and a little relief. He takes that flicker as his cue to come right out and say what they haven't said before. What they've denied themselves, and pushed away, and locked behind closed doors and regulations.

"I'm saying that... if there's still a chance... I want you. Be it here, Nevada, Washington... I want to... give this a shot. If that's what you want"

She blinks quickly and a tear escapes from each eye. He leans forward and places his hand over her one sitting on the table.

"If there's still a chance"

She inhales, taking her hand away from her mouth and placing it over his, her breath shuddering as she looks at their hands all piled on each other like a game. Only, this isn't a game, and the question he's asking can't be taken lightly.

"Oh boy", she mutters, her fingers twitching. She looks up at him, and he raises his other hand and settles his finger under her chin, wiping the tears away with his thumb.

"Are you serious? For real? You really...?"

"For real. I really" he says softly, his hand moving to cup her cheek with a smile that is nothing but tender and, dare she say it, loving.

"Oh God"

She leans into his hand, her eyes slipping closed and squeezing another couple of tears out.

"All these years... and I guess... I figured..."

"One day?"

She scoffs at that, remembering the conversation they'd had over a ring he hadn't given her, and how she'd been silently begging him to stop her, to tell her not to give up on them. And how he'd basically bowed out gracefully, stepping aside with a nod and a 'ah well' so that she could have the house and the kids and the normal life.

As though their lives could ever be normal.

"Sam..." he starts, getting her to open her eyes with the uncommon use of her first name. "I want this..."

She lets out a huff as she smiles with relief. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear that"

He smiles too.

"Then?"

"I... guess, I'm saying... we give this a go... finally"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah"

They see the waitress walking over and pull apart, both still smiling. Sam starts to collect her things as she asks whether they want more, and Jack informs her they're good to go. They walk to the door, Jack's hand very deliberately against her back, and she even lets him pay because she's feeling a little too giddy to protest.

During the ride back to her place he keeps one hand clasped in hers, and she gets the distinct impression that he's claiming her in some way, or making sure that she's not going anywhere. He really has no idea just how happy she is to sit in his truck next to him, or how terrified she is, seeing this wide open space of possibility before them.

The 'one day' has become 'today'.

He walks her to her door as he had done weeks ago, but this time takes her hands in his as she stands in the threshold of her place. They both know it's a little presumptuous to think he'll just start walking inside, as much as he'd really like to, so his body language makes it clear that he's not going past her front porch, and she seems to be calmed by the fact.

He looks her up and down again, and she allows a blush to creep up her cheeks, revelling in the whole experience of being blatantly checked out by _him_.

"You really do look beautiful tonight"

"Thanks"

"I was wondering... tomorrow afternoon I was going to go ice skating. You know, actually _do _something with my time off... would you like to come? I was gonna drag Daniel along, but he's taking Teal'c to the museum to make fun of the inaccuracies in the Ancient Egypt exhibit. How about it?"

"Ice skating?" she asks, incredulity written all over her face.

"Yeah" he says, cocking his head and grinning like a child.

She can't say no.


	3. The Great Date

_Another longer one._

_Please note, as a child born and bred in the sunburnt country, I have only ever been ice-skating once. To those of you who are shaking your head in disbelief, please remember that__** EDIT:**__ very few places in my country snow in winter, let alone freeze.____While it occasionally happens in some areas, and obviously on the snowfields/mountains, it's not the norm, and certainly not widespread. __**END OF EDIT**_

_Having said that, if there is one sport in the whole world that Australia needs more of, it's ice hockey._

_There shall be no smut-like substance in this chapter, though there is a fair dose of fluff and romance and as always a hint of something-something._

_Enjoy..._

_The Great Date..._

_-0-0-_

She skids to a stop against the edge of the rink, grinning madly as she looks behind her and sees him slide up gracefully beside her. He's been skating circles around her all day, and while her unusual ineptitude and his constant reminder that she _clearly never lived any place cold as a kid _would normally annoy her, she can't bring herself to care much. He looks so natural on the ice, skating on one foot, dragging her backwards or skating backwards himself as they talk nonsense and flirt wildly. She can tell that he loves it.

She's yet to tell him that this is her favourite date ever, and that he's even outdone James Reagan, who took her for a picnic to a lake and showed her what kissing really was.

She thinks he might already know, though, judging by the way he's looking at her as he slides around her, pinning her back against the edge and resting his hands on her hips.

The physical boundaries between them have slowly been diminishing, but this is the closest he's allowed himself to get, and it's certainly the most sexual position they've allowed themselves.

She swallows, but doesn't back away, because there's a metal wall behind her and she secretly really wants this to go just a little bit further.

He pulls away only a moment later though, the hint of a smirk on his face, his hands going back in his pockets as he eases backwards on the ice.

"Germany?"

What?

Oh, right, they'd been discussing where she _has _lived, as a way of explaining why her entire left side is now saturated.

"Nope. Nowhere in Europe. Well, London, for just over a year- when I was ten. But mostly we stayed in The States"

"I gotta say, that surprises me"

"Because Dad was SpecOps?"

"No. Because Dad struck me as the kind of guy who would have dragged you around the world to expand your horizons or something"

She grins at that, not just because he knows her Dad that well, but because he's not afraid to say something like that about him with just a hint of protectiveness towards her.

"Nah. I've wanted into space since I was four. He didn't need to bother with inspiring me. Did bring me back some neat snow globes though"

Jack grins, taking her hand and sliding her next to him, keeping her steady with a hand on her waist.

"C'mere, I'll teach you to spin"

She opens her mouth, throws back her head and laughs from deep within her belly.

"I really don't think that's a good idea"

"No, c'mon, you can shoot down a swinging Jaffa training log from fifty feet, you can do a little spin on ice, now come on"

And before she knows it she's spinning over and over, gliding over the ice as though this isn't the fourth time she's worn skates in her life.

"You're a natural" he laughs, watching as she comically saves herself from a disastrous fall. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were a true born athlete"

"Shut up. I'm new at this"

Despite the teasing tone and her death glare, there is no denying that she's got a natural feel for the ice. A few more lessons with him and they'll be ready for the figure skating entries in the next Olympics. Or maybe a jaunt on a pond next to a certain cabin. He looks around the indoor rink, at the young family that's sharing this skate with them at the other end. It's a Thursday afternoon at no particularly special time of year, and while everyone else may think it's a strange time for these people to be using their annual leave, most people don't traipse across a galaxy on a daily basis. At the SGC it's never been about keeping up with school holidays or summer vacations or Christmas, and it's for that reason that on this particular day they only have to compete with a father and two young kids for use of the rink.

Sam makes her way over to him on fairly steady legs, and he stops her momentum without issue, absorbing the contact of her weight by drawing her a little closer than necessary.

"You know what I'd like right now?" she asks softly, her head tilting up in a familiar sign of challenge.

"What?" he asks tenderly, his eyes squinting a little as he cocks his head in question.

"I'd like you to kiss me"

He grins, and can't help but joke just a little, especially given he has no idea how else to handle her being so direct.

"Are you sick?" he asks, putting a hand to her head. She's momentarily startled, until he continues. "Have you been overtaken, infected, bombarded with gamma rays?"

She plays along, and not only does he love her sense of humour, but he loves that she always appreciates his. "Nope. Just a girl... standing in front of a guy..." she replies, skating backwards a little with a wicked grin on her face, tongue between her teeth and everything.

"Oh, well then... how could I say no?" he says, grabbing her hands and pulling her to him quickly. He holds their hands at her sides, her body flush against his, as he finally kisses her, and no alien influences or alternate doubles or time loops can compare to the real and glorious fact that he is kissing Samantha Carter in the middle of an ice rink.

Two hours later and the sun in almost set, throwing the most beautiful mix of pinks, oranges and purples across the clouds on the horizon, and bringing to close, in all its entirety, one of the best and most relaxing days he's ever had. They are walking from his car to his front door, him holding the beer and her carrying the pizza box, and he's decided that he'd really like for this night to not end. Pretty please with a cherry on top. Because not only had he kissed her again at the pizza place as she was getting in the car, but _she _had kissed _him _while they were picking out beers at the liquor store.

She walks into the living room without invitation and places the pizza box on the coffee table as he puts the beers in the fridge, keeping two out to have with dinner.

"So how'd you like London?" he asks as he sits next to her, passing her a beer and snagging a piece from his half of the pizza.

"It was nice" she says around the bite in her mouth. "Cold, but nice"

"You pick up the accent?"

"Ha, no. I don't think you want to hear my British accent. It's pathetic"

He laughs at her then, and takes a whopping big chunk out of the tip of his piece, reducing it to half its size.

"What about you? Ever live anywhere else?"

"Nope. Other than when I was stationed, home was always in the States"

"Colorado?"

"Mostly. Chicago as a kid. Minnesota in the summer at my grandparents cabin"

"Ah, the infamous cabin"

"Which you'll get to see next week... finally"

"You know, I really am looking forward to it. It'll be great to get away for a while"

"No phones, no TV, no computers"

"Hey, now, come on-"

"Okay, okay. You can bring your computer. But I'll be putting a time limit on the thing"

She seems to think it over, but he can tell she's already accepted his terms, and he thinks that secretly she's looking forward to this downtime.

"You'll love it"

"Yeah?"

She settles back into the couch, one leg pulled up so that she can sit at an angle and face him, her opposite arm resting along the back of the couch and bending back to support her head on her hand. He takes a sip from his beer and leans back, swirling the bottle lazily. She had turned the TV on for background noise, but it's down so low he can't hear it.

"Yeah. It's... nice"

"Nice?" she asks, giving him an incredulous look. "All these years you've been trying to get me up to this amazing place of lakes and fishing, and all you can say is 'it's nice'?"

He grins wide at her open mockery, and cocks his head. "Well, what should I say?" he asks with a smile"

"I dunno" she shrugs. Her look turns a little bit pensive for a moment before she continues. "Tell me why you love it so much"

"What'd'ya mean?"

"Well... why do _you _go there to unwind? What is it about this place?"

"Other than the lakes and the fishing?"

"Come on, be serious" she says with a smile, giving his arm a swat. "Tell me why you love this place. What do _you _see when you go there?"

"You looking for a poem? A sonnet? A piece of amazing prose?"

She grins at him, and half shakes her head as she looks to the TV and takes a swig of beer. "Okay, fine, you don't wanna tell me? That's fine" she teases, the grin still firmly in place.

She doesn't look the least put-out by his avoidance, and he wonders if she was even expecting an answer when she asked. Then he realises that she knows him so well that she has come to expect no deep and meaningful talk from him, but she still trusts him to come and save her ass when it needs saving. And he's a little disarmed by the fact that, after all this time and all the effort it has taken over the years to _not_ block people out, he's finally found someone who just _gets _him.

So he takes a deep breath (that she doesn't notice because she's now slightly distracted by the movie on TV), and he starts trying to put into words the reason why he just feels at _home _at the little log cabin in Minnesota.

"Other than the countless childhood memories of the place?" he starts quietly, causing her to look at him suddenly. She settles back, not saying a word, and he looks towards the TV as he talks.

"I don't know. It's so... peaceful there. There's nothing- no cars, no planes, no phones. Nobody to bother you"

She smiles at that and studies his face as he thinks, and puts his empty beer bottle on the table, and she watches the way he frowns in memory, then softens when he realises what he wants to say.

"It's like, no matter how bad things get- no matter how much we think we might lose... there's still this little place completely untouched by it all"

He turns to her. "You can't help but feel like everything's going to be okay"

She smiles at his smile- a soft, gentle, barely-there smile that says more about how he feels about that place than his words ever could.

"Sounds wonderful" she says lowly.

"Just wait until you get there. That first sunset... gnah, there's nothing like it"

Suddenly, without preamble, she leans across the space between them, placing a hand on the side of his very surprised face, and kisses him. She pulls away only a moment later with a soft smile, and he leans in to catch her lips again.

Whereas their other kisses had been slow and sensual and all about testing the waters, this one is gentle and sweet and completely about showing him just how much she wants to see this place he loves so much.

His hand has come up to rest against her back, his other hand threading lightly through her hair. For a moment she's leaning into him, her body pressing against him as their mouths slowly explore, but it only takes a second and he's pressing back. Her hand moves from his cheek to cup behind his neck, pulling him with her as she lowers herself back against the couch, her intention very clear, and if it weren't for the fact they are both old enough to know exactly what they're doing and what they want, he'd think they were going a little fast. So he doesn't resist, but doesn't push further either, and for a moment he's suspended above her, the smallest of gaps between them, letting her know that this is _so _not happening on his couch. Because they're not the age for petty doubts, and that means they're also not the age for couch-sex.

He pushes himself up gracefully, the kiss breaking at the last possible second, and with one leg still dangling off the side of the couch she follows easily.

He stands still in front of her, running his hands down her arms and back up again to cup her cheeks and kiss her firmly, and she grips his elbows as she tastes the slightest hint of beer on his tongue and realises that this is not even the work of alcohol. It's all them.

They back slowly towards the hallway as he takes one of her hands in his, and she knows that once they make it to his bed, he's going to show her thoroughly and completely just how much he wants this and just how long he's been waiting to do it.

And she doesn't complain, because while she's never been one to back down from a challenge, she's also never been one to question his lead, and she'll let him lead on this one if he likes, because she knows there'll be plenty of time later to show _him_ a thing or two.

_-0-0-_

_So there you have it- the prequel to The NotSoAwkward Morning After, in its entirety. I hope you enjoyed that little piece of fluff, and please let me know what you thought, good, bad or otherwise. _

_Thanks!_


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